Read Online Coyote blue by Christopher Moore - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Christopher Moore
Tags: Humor
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if you die of thirst? What good is medicine, anyway? He'd rather be in school. This was no fun, this was scary. Why did Pokey have to be so strange? Why couldn't he be more like Harlan, or Ben Cartwright?
Once on the downhill side of the boulders Samson could see the place where he would sit through his fast: a small stone fire ring under the overhang of one of the boulders. Samson sat down facing the sun, which was now a great orange ball on the eastern horizon.
He thought of Grandma at home. She would be pouring Lucky Charms in everyone's bowls about now, getting his little cousin Alice's insulin out of the refrigerator and filling the syringe, making sure everyone was dressed and ready for school. Uncle Harlan would be sitting in the living room drinking coffee and telling all the kids to be quiet because of his hangover. Samson's aunts would be pulling the blankets off the sweat lodge and loading them into the back of Harlan's truck so they could take them to the laundromat. Normally, Samson would be trading punches in the arm with Harry and Festus and lying to Grandma about having his homework done. He wanted to be at home with everyone else, not sitting by himself up here on a mountain. He had never been by himself before. He decided he didn't like it. For the first time in his life he was lonely.
He tried to think of the Spirit World. Maybe he could go there really fast, find a spirit helper and go back up to the truck so Pokey could take him to Lodge Grass and get a Coke: thirty minutes, tops. Get in, get out, and nobody gets hurt, as Uncle Harlan always said, something he picked up in Vietnam.
Samson tried to imagine the hole he would enter the Spirit World through. He couldn't do it. Maybe a prayer.
"O Great Spirit and Great Mother," Samson prayed in Crow. "Hear my prayer. Please let me find my spirit helper so I can go home."
He waited a moment. Okay, that didn't work, back to the hole in the ground.
After two hours he grew bored and his mind wandered to the Ponderosa, then to school, home, the planet Krypton, the snack bar in Crow Agency, the McDonald's in Billings, the damp basement of Lodge Grass High School, where Harlan had taken him and shown him old black-and-white films of his father playing basketball. He wondered what his father had been like. Then wondered about his mother, who had died when he was only two. Her liver quit, Harlan said. No one else would talk about the dead. He tried to remember her, but could remember only Grandma and his aunts. The new feeling of loneliness was getting worse.
Maybe he could make up a vision. He could go tell Pokey that he had a vision and found his spirit helper and Pokey would tell him how to make his medicine bundle and he could go home. That would work. He thought for a moment about what animal he should pick for his spirit helper and decided on a hawk. He didn't know what hawk medicine was, but it was probably pretty good for you unless you raised chickens or something.
Samson ran up the hill and just as he was cresting the ridge he began to shout. "Pokey! Pokey! I had my vision! I saw my spirit helper!" When he reached the road the truck was nowhere in sight. He looked up and down the road, then crossed it and looked down the other side of the ridge. Pokey was gone.
Samson felt his lip begin to quiver and water fill his eyes. He sat down in the dirt as the first series of chest-wrenching sobs escaped him and echoed down the ridge. He buried his face in his knees and cried until his throat hurt. When finally he found the bottom of his sadness he looked up and wiped his eyes on his forearm.
Why would Pokey just leave him? Maybe he just went to buy some beer. Maybe he would bring back a Coke. Samson suddenly realized that he really was thirsty. The sun was moving higher in the sky and it was starting to get hot. He stood and looked around for a shady place to wait, but the closest shade was down by the boulders, and from there he wouldn't be able to see the
Once on the downhill side of the boulders Samson could see the place where he would sit through his fast: a small stone fire ring under the overhang of one of the boulders. Samson sat down facing the sun, which was now a great orange ball on the eastern horizon.
He thought of Grandma at home. She would be pouring Lucky Charms in everyone's bowls about now, getting his little cousin Alice's insulin out of the refrigerator and filling the syringe, making sure everyone was dressed and ready for school. Uncle Harlan would be sitting in the living room drinking coffee and telling all the kids to be quiet because of his hangover. Samson's aunts would be pulling the blankets off the sweat lodge and loading them into the back of Harlan's truck so they could take them to the laundromat. Normally, Samson would be trading punches in the arm with Harry and Festus and lying to Grandma about having his homework done. He wanted to be at home with everyone else, not sitting by himself up here on a mountain. He had never been by himself before. He decided he didn't like it. For the first time in his life he was lonely.
He tried to think of the Spirit World. Maybe he could go there really fast, find a spirit helper and go back up to the truck so Pokey could take him to Lodge Grass and get a Coke: thirty minutes, tops. Get in, get out, and nobody gets hurt, as Uncle Harlan always said, something he picked up in Vietnam.
Samson tried to imagine the hole he would enter the Spirit World through. He couldn't do it. Maybe a prayer.
"O Great Spirit and Great Mother," Samson prayed in Crow. "Hear my prayer. Please let me find my spirit helper so I can go home."
He waited a moment. Okay, that didn't work, back to the hole in the ground.
After two hours he grew bored and his mind wandered to the Ponderosa, then to school, home, the planet Krypton, the snack bar in Crow Agency, the McDonald's in Billings, the damp basement of Lodge Grass High School, where Harlan had taken him and shown him old black-and-white films of his father playing basketball. He wondered what his father had been like. Then wondered about his mother, who had died when he was only two. Her liver quit, Harlan said. No one else would talk about the dead. He tried to remember her, but could remember only Grandma and his aunts. The new feeling of loneliness was getting worse.
Maybe he could make up a vision. He could go tell Pokey that he had a vision and found his spirit helper and Pokey would tell him how to make his medicine bundle and he could go home. That would work. He thought for a moment about what animal he should pick for his spirit helper and decided on a hawk. He didn't know what hawk medicine was, but it was probably pretty good for you unless you raised chickens or something.
Samson ran up the hill and just as he was cresting the ridge he began to shout. "Pokey! Pokey! I had my vision! I saw my spirit helper!" When he reached the road the truck was nowhere in sight. He looked up and down the road, then crossed it and looked down the other side of the ridge. Pokey was gone.
Samson felt his lip begin to quiver and water fill his eyes. He sat down in the dirt as the first series of chest-wrenching sobs escaped him and echoed down the ridge. He buried his face in his knees and cried until his throat hurt. When finally he found the bottom of his sadness he looked up and wiped his eyes on his forearm.
Why would Pokey just leave him? Maybe he just went to buy some beer. Maybe he would bring back a Coke. Samson suddenly realized that he really was thirsty. The sun was moving higher in the sky and it was starting to get hot. He stood and looked around for a shady place to wait, but the closest shade was down by the boulders, and from there he wouldn't be able to see the
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